The orange blanket
by Sara Winter
Summary: The grounders hadn't attacked for five days and all Clarke wanted was to sleep.


**Hello everyone. This is my first fanstory ever. So please be gentle with me. As english is not my first language I apologise for every grammatic mistake or spell error in advance.**

**But enough with that. I hope you like it. This is rather a scene, than a real story and I just had to get it out of my head. **

She crept under her blanket. All day she had been working and yawning, yawning and working. But there seemed to be no end to the forever growing pain or loss that faced them.

The struggle to survive forced her to be something more and she didn't know how long she could take it. The continuing threats and fights were not her problem, they always found a way, at least some of them did. But the wait between, dragged on her nerves. The not knowing, what might come next forced her to gain a strength she did not posses.

The blanket was raw. Bellamy and her had found it in the bunker, bright orange, like a signal for emergency; a special blanket, for special occasions. And that it was. Clarke tugged the blanked tighter around her. The days were getting colder. How would she survive, how could any of them survive the winter. That was the real threat. The grounders had taken a break. Five days without any interaction. Five days of waiting.

At least they could refill some of their food and medicine. Bellamy had organized a party to hunt, Clarke had gone with a group to gather some herbs and seaweed. At night they sat around the fires to gain warmth, but as soon as they left the chill in their bones returned.

Here eyes were falling shut and she was between waking and sleep, when she heard someone enter her tent. There was no light, only rustle. The person moved from the entrance, but no further. Afraid to move, she just blinked her eyes. Darkness surrounded her, but her eyes had already adjusted to it. She could make out the form of the person. He was tall, it must be a he she thought. He was muscular in a lean fit form. His hands hang on either sides and his head was straightly directed to her. He was looking at her. The hair was loosely, short with a few locks. Then it dawned on her. „Bellamy?", she asked in a low voice. He nodded. No words or confirmation besides this. She wanted to get up, light a candle. Something must have happened. Why else would he be here?

„Stay", was all he said. She was tired, so tired of everything. Five days of waiting. All she wanted was to sleep as long as she could. She wanted to say something, but the words failed her. So she keep staring.

Slowly he pulled off his jacked and put it on an improvised chair. Then followed the shoes. Clarke was still spying him suspiciously. She had an idea, what he was about to do, but she couldn't believe it. Why would he do this? What could he gain from her? They were a good team these days, they fought together, they lead together. The people looked up to them, but that was all it was.

Of course it had crossed her mind and she wasn't blind. Bellamy was a rather good looking guy with a fairly good heart, at least for some people. He was strong and willing to do everything for the people he loved. But for everyone else he would not. He could be rash, unwilling and unforgiving. But every wrong thing he did, hunted him. It followed him, wherever he went and she could see it. It was in his eyes, those sad brown eyes. They grew every day.

Now, here in the dark, she couldn't see them. She didn't want to see them. They reflected everything she felt.

She lay back down again. Waiting for whatever might come next. He just stood there in his pants, socks and shirt, looking a bit lost. Neither was saying anything and time was feeling like hours. It was like he was waiting for an invitation.

She pulled the blanket over her again and rolled over to one side of the bed. This was it. No words, no grant expositions. She just rolled over, almost without thinking. And he took it.

Bit by bit he got further to the bed. His steps were quiet, but heavy. She had turned her back to him. When he sat down on the bed, she felt the weight shift. Felt him stay there for some time. He stilled his movements. Still struggling with himself. Was this the right thing to do? Would this change everything between them? Hadn't the war already?

He never had intentionally thought about it. He had other things to worry about. Octavia, the camp, the grounders, there was no room for Clarke, for Clarke alone. She always belonged to the camp - Clarke and the camp. They were a union. Surviving meant the camp and Clarke to survive. Not just Clarke.

Then tonight after the fire, after it got cold again, he went to his tent. He slipped out of his shoes, threw the jacked on the ground. Just before he would let himself fall it hit him. This was not where he needed to be. He didn't want to think about „want". There was no time for this. But he knew that somewhere else he would find warmth.

So he turned around and went to her tent.

There he was, sitting on her bed trying to shut out every thought he had, just concentrating on her and the warmth.

As strong and fearless as seemed to be, he couldn't bring himself to lie down. He didn't fear her reaction, hell, he had her permission. He feared everything else. This one step, to let himself go, he feared that everything would just crush down on him and he wouldn't be able to stop.

Clarke lay still. She waited for him to do something. He was always so forceful, what was he waiting for. Turning her head she observed him. She could see the tensed muscles on his back, his fingers buried deep in the bed, his head hang lose, he stared at the ground, breathing deeply and shivering from the cold.

She turned around, facing him. Her orange blanket gave her warmth. Slowly she stretched out her arm from under the blanket and mirrored his back with her hand. Just an inch between him and her.

He felt her movement and leaned back. Hesitant she stroked his back. He could feel her warmth through his shirt. She sat up and moved her hand higher to his shoulders. They were tense, muscular and strong, but so hard from all the pain they held.

She moved him towards her and he gave in, let everything fall he had held so very tight around him. She embraced his arms and shoulders and both breathed in deeply, as if this was the first time they had to hold still through all the mess around them.

Clarke rested her head on his. His hair was so very soft, tingling on her chin. She could feel him ease under her touch. He tried to say something, but what could he say? "Thank you, for I don't know what his is. Thank you, for letting me stay. Thank you, but tomorrow I might be dead. Thank you, but tomorrow you might be dead." There was nothing, that would fit this scene. He wanted to feel her, to explore her, get to know her better. He didn't know where this was coming from and why her. She had been a pain in the ass in the beginning and somewhere along the line she wasn't anymore. So he just held on tight, not saying anything.

Clarke felt him move and thought this was it. Now he would go and both would forget that this had ever happened, but instead he took her hands in his. It looked like he was weighting them. His hands moved tenderly over hers. He seemed so lost in his thoughts. Her own tension had flown away in his movement. Everything was erased from her mind. All that mattered was this moment, everything else would crash back soon enough. But she was unsure how this would end. Without words, she couldn't argue and that's what they did best. This was new, no words, just touch.

Bellamy entwined their hands and looked intensively at them. She closed her fingered around his. Then he kissed her knuckles.

Clarke sighted. Bellamy turned around losing one of her hands, but didn't let the other go. He looked straight at her searching for something. Gently he pulled a hair strand behind her ear and held her face in his hands.

Clarke shivered, if it was from the cold she couldn't say. Bellamy frowned slightly. He pulled the orange blanked over them and both lay down on her bed, escaping for one night to the warmth.


End file.
